Decisions
by Davesmom
Summary: COMPLETE...(books 1) Pansy Parkinson knows something very bad. She is torn between her loyalties and needs help coming to the right decision. She is hoping Draco can help her...DracoPansy...ewww. A special request for liebling.


Disclaimer:  All characters (even that 'Moon' girl) belong to the fantastic, gifted, talented, etc, JK Rowling (and Bloomsbury, and Scholastic, and Warner Bros, et al)

Note:  This fic is saved on my computer as 'ewwwwwwww' because that's what the thought of this couple makes me say.  But, my friend Liebling (read her stuff!  I like it!) specifically asked me to write a Draco/Pansy story for her, even if it was only friendship.  This is what I came up with, but if anyone has any recommendations for D/P for her, I'm sure they HAVE to be better than this.  Okay, Mel, here it is.  Now post your Percy/Fleur story!

The young woman stood before one of the many windows along the corridor, watching the sun setting. Almost anyone watching her would have quickly looked away. It had nothing to do with her appearance, which was actually passable. Instead, it had to do with who she was.   
            Pansy Parkinson, a seventh year Slytherin, was thought to be one of the nastiest, foulest-tempered girls in the whole school.  Pansy liked that.  If people were afraid of her, they wouldn't see the overwhelming fear she carried about with her most of the time.  She had only one friend here, and although she trusted him implicitly, the fear was something she didn't want to burden him with.  

Still gazing forlornly out the window at the dying day, Pansy tried to decide what to do.  Fortunately for her, there was no one to see the sad look that currently covered her not quite pretty, but not unpleasant face. Forlorn was not a look she would want anyone in the castle to see. To be forlorn meant to be weak, and if you happened to belong to Slytherin house, weakness was a luxury you could not afford.   
            Pansy quickly wiped away a tear that had formed at the corner of her eye, automatically darting a glance about to make sure no one had witnessed this further act of weakness.   
Finally pulling herself together, Pansy straightened and turned away from the spectacular sunset. The fading light caught the reddish overtones in her dark hair and caused them to flame briefly. Then, with a quick movement, Pansy moved away and the effect was gone.   
            Coming to a sudden decision, she hurried down the stairs toward the dungeons.  She wanted to catch her only friend before everyone headed to supper.   
"True blood," she said quietly as she stood before a blank stretch of wall in the corridor of the dungeons.   
            The stones moved and the hidden doorway to the Slytherin common room revealed itself. Pansy hurried in, nearly running into Millicent Bulstrode. The large, homely girl stood directly in Pansy's path, suspiciously eying the smaller girl.   
             "Where've you been?" Millicent demanded, the stupid expression on her face replaced by one of intense dislike. There wasn't much love lost in the Slytherin common room, where all the residents watched one another, trying to find ways to take advantage and improve their own positions.   
            "What business is it of yours?" Pansy returned, straightening and giving Millicent a cool look. She hoped that in the gloom of the entryway the other girl wouldn't notice her swollen eyes or red nose. Pansy was not a graceful weeper, and even the few tears she had shed would probably show. 

Millicent gave Pansy a glare, but backed away, apparently not ready to face down the most powerful Slytherin girl in their year.  "I personally wouldn't care if you'd fallen into a pit, but Malfoy's been looking for you," Millicent finally snapped.  

Pansy started at that.  That was just who she'd been hoping to catch.  "Where is he?" she asked, a shade too eagerly.

The larger girl grinned nastily.  "How would I know?  Don't you think I have better things to do than keep tabs on your stupid little boyfriend?  He's probably out shagging some brainless Hufflepuff, for all I know."

Pansy rolled her eyes and pushed past her classmate.  She'd just have to find Draco herself.  As she entered the common room, she wondered why everyone thought she and Draco were going out.  They had gone to the Yule Ball together, of course, but that was only because there was no one else for either of them to go with.  There was no way she would have gone with Crabbe or Goyle, and Blaise Zabini had been going out with an older Slytherin girl at the time.  The thought of Draco asking Millicent or that Moon girl was just laughable.  And it would have been political suicide for either of them to go with someone from another house; not to mention the fact that if their parents had found out, they would have been dead.  

She and Draco had been prefects in their fifth year, too, and had always hung out together.  But that had been natural.  Was he to have gone to Ron Weasley for companionship?  She would have died before running to that Granger girl for a cozy gossip.  When she thought about it, she _could _see why everyone thought she and Draco were an item.  They were always together.  

Sighing, Pansy surveyed the common room, but Draco wasn't there.  She moved to one of the overstuffed chairs near the fireplace and threw herself into it.  She'd just have to wait for him. 

With another sigh, she pondered her earlier thoughts.  Hogwarts had been her home for over six years now.  Even though she went back to her family at holidays, the house she'd grown up in no longer felt like home.  There was a feeling of foreboding there now.  It was almost as though something nasty and horrible had taken up residence, only awaiting some hidden signal to pounce on the residents and devour them whole.  Her mother cried all the time and her father was seldom there.  When he was home, he was cold and distant, and his eyes were empty.  

Pansy shuddered.  No, her house was no longer her home.  Hogwarts was the only place she felt safe anymore.  And even Hogwarts was beginning to feel dangerous.  Pansy had just had a disturbing letter from her mother and she wanted to talk to Draco.  A decision had to be made, but she didn't know what to do, or where to turn.  Pansy was praying that Draco might be able to tell her. 

Draco Malfoy, Slytherin's darling and the bane of the rest of the school, had been her friend for years.  He had made life in this dank, airless hole of a dorm bearable.  He'd been her confidant, her supporter, and her big brother all at once.  Pansy knew what most of the students thought of him.  They thought him arrogant, bullying, and conceited.  So he was.  They considered him to be cruel and without feelings.  There they would be wrong.  He was sometimes cruel to those he disliked, but he was other things, too.  He was smart and clever, he had a queer sense of humor that never failed to make her laugh, and he could be, with the right person, very caring.  

Closing her eyes and forcing herself not to massage her throbbing temples, Pansy heaved another sigh.  Everyone thought she and Draco were going out, but they didn't realize that he only viewed her as the sibling he'd never had.  He took care of her as he would a younger sister.  And even if Pansy wouldn't have objected to being more, she knew he didn't view her that way.  Pansy would never know that softer side of him any more than she did now.  But, she could still talk to him and get his advice.  Opening her eyes, she stood once more and moved toward the corridor that led to the boys' rooms.  

Pansy hadn't even covered half the distance of the common room when he appeared in the corridor.  She stopped.

"Pans," he said coolly, casually.  "Did you get that bit McGonagall gave us in transfiguration?"

Pansy answered, her voice as calm as his had been.  "Sure. You want me to get it?"

Draco had entered the common room and was now standing a foot or so from her.  They looked as though they were having a normal conversation about homework, but any time either of them mentioned 'transfiguration' homework, it meant they wanted to speak privately. 

"Yeah, do you mind?  I thought I'd work through supper, since the stupid old hag gave us so much to do.  How about you?"

"Sounds good to me," she answered, keeping her voice steady.  "Do you still have some of that cake you pinched from the kitchens?  I can make some tea."

They agreed to meet in a few minutes, Pansy with her tea things and transfiguration homework, and Draco with some cake.  The rest of the Slytherins began to exit, heading for supper and making snide comments about the two 'lovers' staying behind.  Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the common room was empty.  

Pansy took her things and sat at one of the tables against the wall, where Draco joined her moments later.  For the first few minutes they seemed absorbed in discussing transfiguration and sharing abusive comments about its instructor.  

In fact, Draco had done such a perfect imitation of Professor McGonagall's voice and mannerisms, Pansy was thrown into a fit of laughter.  As her giggles tapered off, she heard something in the girl's corridor.  A few seconds later a disgusted looking Millicent Bulstrode stumped out of the corridor and gave them both cold looks.  Then she stalked to the entrance and disappeared through it.  

"I thought that sneaking old cow was still here.  I didn't smell her leave," Pansy snapped when she was finally certain they were alone. 

Draco shook his head.  "God, I hate this place.  It's getting worse and worse."

Pansy fixed him with a look.  "I wanted to talk to you," she said quickly.  "I got a letter."

"I wanted to talk to you, too.  I saw you reading it.  Your face turned white."

Pansy bent her head and stared at the parchment in front of her.  She was afraid if she looked into his eyes, she would just lose it.  She did not want to look like a blubbering fool in front of her only friend.  Suddenly his hand slid into her view as he gently touched her arm. 

"Tell me," he said quietly.

"It—it was from my mother.  She says m-my father is crazy.  She s-says they're planning to a-attack the castle!  That some of the kids here are h-helping!"  Pansy couldn't stop the tears this time.  Lowering her head to the surface of the table, she let them slide down her nose to the thirsty parchment below.  She didn't sob, though.  Years of suppressing her emotions had taught her to cry quietly.  Her shoulders barely shook.  But the tears felt all the more painful for being silent. 

"Pans, don't.  You know everyone will be able to tell."

His voice was so tender that Pansy thought she might just give in to the choking sobs that wanted to escape.  In fact, if she thought he might actually really care, _that way_ about her, she would have given over to her emotions and thrown herself into his arms, seeking and accepting his comfort.  But he didn't, so she fought back the rising flood of tears and sat up.  He was already holding a handkerchief to her, which she did take.  Drying her eyes, Pansy looked away into the fire. 

"It's horrid.  I mean, remember a few years ago when we used to joke about the Dark Lord getting rid of all the Mudbloods and muggle-lovers?  It seemed so _right_ back then, didn't it?  It seemed like the thing to do.  But my mother told me they're planning on _murder!_  They're planning to kill _children!_"

She could feel her voice getting higher and louder as she spoke and it was probably a good thing that Draco stood then and pulled her to her feet.  

"Not here, Pans," he said quickly.  "Let's go to my room; we can talk there."

She nodded and Draco took her hand, leading her to the boys' dorms.  No alarm sounded, the students having long ago discovered how to disarm the warning device.  They entered a room that was labeled 'Seventh years', and Draco pulled her to a bed in the corner.  The other three beds were slightly off to the side and crowded together, giving Draco the lion's (or perhaps that should have been the dragon's) portion of the small space.  Draco motioned for her to seat herself at the foot of the bed while he settled himself near his pillow, crossing his legs neatly.

Everything about him was so neat and precise.  Pansy wished she could enjoy this intimate setting, but she couldn't.  Her face was probably blotched and red, her robe was rumpled, and her hair had to be a mess, while he looked as though he'd just stepped out from behind his mirror.  She was sitting on his soft, inviting bed, with no one else in the entire dorm, and she felt stupid and miserable in the face of his aesthetic perfection.  Shaking herself, she pushed away the feeling.  She needed his advice.

"I'm sorry," she said finally, staring at her hands.  "I know I shouldn't cry.  I just felt—"

"Don't apologize, especially not to me.  I just don't want you to give these bastards any ammunition to use against you.  Now, tell me again."

Pansy went over the lengthy letter her mother had sent her, keeping the tears at bay this time.  She told how she felt pulled by loyalty to her father and his 'cause' and her concern and shame over his actions.  It was one thing to pick on some kids and want to keep the magical community pure, but entirely another to plan the large-scale massacre of innocents.  She knew she had to do something, but she couldn't decide what that something was.  In short, she needed his help.

Draco watched her thoughtfully throughout, saying little.  He had, at one point, taken her hand to encourage her to continue, and had somehow forgotten to release it.  Pansy decided she wasn't in a hurry to relieve him of it, herself. 

"You know, Pans, I've felt we're not on the right side of things for a while now," he said finally.

"You have?"

Pansy was astounded.  She knew how deeply Draco felt about 'pure blood' and all that.  She couldn't believe his feelings could change on the subject.

"Well," he said hastily, "it actually started more as feeling like we weren't going to be on the winning side.  You know, with Potter always somehow surviving everything Voldemort threw at him, and him not even being raised in a magic household.  He knew shit about magic until his first year here.  That doesn't inspire confidence in our leader, does it?"

Pansy grimaced.  They'd had this conversation before, after their fifth year.  Draco continued. 

"There's more, though.  I found some things out recently.  Did you know that before Voldemort became Voldemort, he was just some jumped up Mudblood named Tom Riddle?  Our leader, who wants to promote the 'pure blood' is a half-breed himself?  And he's always being beaten by a kid, a teenager who's mother was a Mudblood herself?  There's something wrong with that picture!"

Draco stood suddenly, his hands moving restlessly through his short blond hair.  "I've been doing some serious thinking, Pans, and it kills me to admit this, but even Granger is a better witch than a lot of the pure-blooded wizards and witches here!  If that's so, then everything my father has been saying is just that much shit!  He's full of shit, and so is his precious 'lord'.  We have to get out of here, Pansy.  Or we'll be caught in the middle when the really bad shit goes down!"

Pansy stared, wide eyed at the boy she thought she knew so well.  Draco Malfoy was saying his father was full of shit?  He was questioning Lord Voldemort?  And he was so upset that his normally precise speech was deteriorating, fast.  For a moment Pansy felt an insane urge to pinch herself, or him.  She wanted to ask who he was and what he'd done to the real Draco.  Then she looked at him again.

Draco looked as she'd looked when she'd stood before the window.  Forlorn, hopeless, lost.  Unable to stop herself, Pansy climbed off the bed and went to his side.  He looked down at her, his expression uncertain.  Pansy lifted a hand and placed it on his chest, something she'd never dared to do before.

Draco stared at the small white hand on his chest for a second before crushing her to him.  

"Oh, God, Pansy.  I can't protect you here.  We have to leave!"

His voice was low and urgent, straight into her ear, the words vibrating right to her heart.  She was misunderstanding, though.  She had to be. 

Ruthlessly strangling the hope that had soared into her heart, Pansy said, "Draco, don't.  You don't have—"

"Please, just hear me out," he interrupted, his hands pulling her closer, fitting her to his tall frame.  "I know you're not interested, that I'm just your friend, but I can't go without you.  I have to make sure you're okay.  Even if there isn't anything more to it."

He pulled away abruptly, his face turned away from her.  Dropping to his knees beside the bed, Draco yanked out a trunk from beneath.  He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wand and a set of keys.  Then he unlocked the multiple locks on the trunk and removed the spells he'd placed on it.  Still looking away from her, he said, "I've been planning this for a while."

Pansy had stood, frozen; unable to believe he'd said what it seemed he'd said.  When he finally motioned to her, she could only gaze dumbly into the now open chest.  Then she gaped.  It held piles and piles of gold galleons, along with wands, what appeared to be an invisibility cloak, and several odd items that looked to be portkeys.  But what held her attention was the photograph tucked into the lid of the trunk.  

It had been taken last year, on one of the Hogsmeade trips.  Surprisingly, it had been one of the candid shots taken by that Mudblood pest Colin Creevey, showing Pansy and Draco inside the Three Broomsticks.  They had been sitting side by side and somehow that prat Creevey had caught Pansy giving Draco a disgustingly adoring look.  Pansy remembered it clearly, because she'd only risked the look when his back had been turned.  But as she watched the photo, she saw the image of Draco turn suddenly, catching her gaze.  Photo Draco didn't sneer or laugh, though, he gave photo Pansy an equally adoring look and pulled her into a passionate kiss.  Pansy gasped, finally drawing Draco's attention to herself. 

He glanced up at her, but when he realized what she'd gasped at, he slammed the trunk closed and jumped up. 

"Look, Pans, it isn't what you think—" he began.

Pansy clenched her hands tightly together.  "I know.  I—was just surprised.  It looked like you—wanted to, you know, kiss me."

_Good God, girl, get a grip!_ she told herself sternly.  Her eyes were fixed on his chest as she tried to come up with something a little less lame.

"I do, Pans.  A lot.  I wanted to for a while now."

Pansy's eyes flew to his, startled.  "You have?"

Draco took a hesitant step toward her.  "Yeah, I have.  I just figured you didn't want to, because you always used to go on about how everyone expected it."

"But, I don't understand.  You treat me like your sister.  I thought you just wanted to be friends."

"'Course I want to be your friend, Pans," Draco told her, taking another step.  His hand came up to her cheek and he brushed his thumb across the high cheekbone.  "I'll always want to be your friend.  But I want to be more, too, if you let me."

The emotions swelling up in her breast threatened to choke the hapless girl.  She fought back tears for a third time this night as she timidly brought her hand up to cradle his neck.  

"I want you, too," she admitted shyly.  

Draco gave her a tiny smile as he carefully gathered her closer.  "Show me," he whispered. 

Several delightful minutes elapsed before the sound of someone in the corridor caused the teens to break apart.  They listened tensely, until they realized it was only one of the younger boys running to his room, and then, just as quickly, running back out.

Draco let out a gusty sigh and tightened his hold on the girl in his arms.  "So what now, Pans?  What do we do now?"

Pansy bit her lip and pushed away from his chest.  "There's one thing I have to do," she said quietly.  "I understand if you don't agree, but I have to do it."

Draco cocked his head to the side.  "And that would be?"

"Before we go, I have to warn the Headmaster.  Even if we don't stay and help, we have to let him know what's going to happen."

She watched his face nervously.  She knew he cared little for the school and less for the Headmaster, but she'd finally come to a decision.  It was something she had to do to be able to live with herself.  Draco's face tightened momentarily before he nodded.

"I figured you would.  I'll go with you if you want, and then we'll just leave.  I can't imagine anyone here really _grieving_ at our disappearance, except each other.  Can you?"

Pansy smiled, relieved.  Her heart felt lighter than it had in days.  Draco cared about her and would help her warn the Headmaster.  At least the kids and teachers here would have a fighting chance.  And, who knew?  Maybe everything would turn out all right in the end.  

Whatever happened, though, she would have what she'd wanted since she was twelve.  She would have Draco.  


End file.
